


We can hide things away, but we can't forget.

by AsheTarasovich (natalieashe), Boffin1710



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hacking, Kidnapping, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Coercion, Physical Abuse, Q is M's Grandson, Q is not Quartermaster, Rescue Missions, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:50:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natalieashe/pseuds/AsheTarasovich, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boffin1710/pseuds/Boffin1710
Summary: "...What or who are you hiding?  No one ever asks that...""Wretch" Artwork by themuller13 on tumblr and our fic to go along with it for 00Q Reverse Big Bang 2017-2018





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [themuller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/themuller/gifts).




	2. Chapter 2

“Gentlemen.”  
  
The small grey-haired woman greets her audience with a tilt of her head and a nod to the balding man on her left who hands her a tablet with all of the pertinent details of the briefing. She’s already been briefed, of course.  Won’t even consult the tablet unless Tanner specifically draws her attention to something.   
  
A quick glance around the table reveals two double Os - one of which is Bond, naturally (better to have him in her sights than wandering loose) - a Team Lead from one of the field operations, and a couple of respected experts from their terrorism specialties.  Inwardly she sighs.  If this is terror related it brings a whole host of media headaches with it.   
  
“When you’re ready, Tanner...”   
  
The details he projects on the screen are what she already knows.  A team of British nationals, security experts in their field, were kidnapped in Oman and their skills were being touted on the dark web for undisclosed bids.  It is high-profile, but also routine.   
  
That is until the array of ID photographs is displayed...   
  
Dark hair, thin, scruffy beard and glasses.  Fourth from the right, top row.     
  
It’s been awhile… eight, maybe nine months... but the eyes that stare from behind those spectacles are unmistakably inherited from her daughter.     
  
Unidentified Male, mid 20s, is family, but not a relationship ever declared to MI6.

“This team unfortunately represented some of our country most skilled experts in data security.  They had been brought together to create a system that would virtually secure our country from any form of cyber incursions.  They best of the best so to speak.   Individually any one of them and their skills in the wrong hands would be devastating.  As a group in the wrong hands, I dare say you can just imagine the destruction they could cause.”  M paused for a moment, Tanner catching her eye and quietly related something to her before she continued.    
  
“One of the issue with their disappearance is that we are not completely sure of when they were taken.  It didn’t come to light that they were absent until a scheduled check in on progress date was missed.”  Tanner stood quietly passing out mission brief files to those in attendance.      
  
“We know the last time supplies were delivered to their location,” M continued.  “As you can see about the same time there was a request for sample working data files from Whitehall.  Nothing from that outside contact until the designated missed check in date.” M briefly glanced at the photo of the missing team displayed on the monitor behind her.  It was the eyes.  No denying it.  They haunted her.   
  
“As you can see from the provided documentation, Gentlemen,”. Tanner interjected.  “It has been impossible for us to pinpoint exactly on what date the team disappeared.  We are working with a three week time frame.“   
  
“Until this appeared in the dark web yesterday morning,” the visual on the monitor switched to an auction post with details opening for bidding, “we had no idea where to even look for them over the past month since their disappearance.  I cannot impress on you more the importance of their retrieval.”   
  
Tanner picked up the remainder of the briefing added what they had discovered since yesterday’s auction discovering and delving more into who exactly the members of the missing team were and their specialities.  “Review the mission file and report back here at 1300 hours, 2 hours from now.  We’ll have the up to the moment intel and assignments for you then.” Tanner concluded.     
  
“Bond. My office.” M instructed the agent  as those in attendance stood to leave talking amongst themselves.     
  
Bond followed his superior along the corridor at a respectful distance wondering what dressing down he was due this time.  He didn’t open doors for her.  Didn’t attempt any courtesies he normally lavished on women. This was M, smart tailored suit and sensible low heels disguising the she-dragon she could be.   
  
“Close the door and pour me a drink,” she commanded, marching to her desk and flipping open the file she had brought back with her.  She stared at the group photograph for a long time, grim expression fixed in place.   
  
Bond settled into the chair opposite adopting the arrogant relaxed pose he favoured when M was about to deliver a reprimand, but after ten full minutes (he checked the antique wall clock) of being completely ignored he began to feel foolish. His natural manner was alert and poised, and it was This that he gradually relaxed into.   
  
“Mum?”   
  
M blinked at him as though she’d forgotten his presence.  She lowered the photograph and folded her hands over it, ice blue gaze levelled at him like a weapon.   
  
“I want your fullest attention on this mission, 007.  No distractions, no side trips.  You will receive your assignment when we reconvene, until then you have a little over 90 minutes to absorb every tiny detail of this file.  Dismissed.”   
  
Bond gaped at her.  She had called him to her office just to deliver that message?  Was it some kind of scolding in disguise?  He shook his head with disbelief and stood, swiping up his copy of the file from his side of her desk.   
  
“Anything else?”   
  
She glanced up from the notes she had begun scribing, Montblanc pausing on the page with a barely discernible scratching sound.  “Dinner, this evening.  My place at 8.  Don’t be late.  There will be no further discussion now.”     
  
She began writing again, ignoring the baffled agent.  Bond reached the door, just prepared to open it, when “and this time, use the front door, 007.”


	3. Chapter 3

Bond stood on the front steps of M’s home not really sure what he was doing there. Actually this would be the first time he had entered her home through the front door... invited. The front door was suddenly opened by a tall dark haired man who obviously had the air of a trained bodyguard and M’s voice filtered outward from some place inside. “Tell him to quit loitering on the doorstep looking conspicuous and come in. I won’t need you for the rest of the evening, Wilson.”

“It wouldn’t do to keep M waiting would it Agent,” the “butler” smirked stepping away from the opened door. “You’ll find her in the lounge. Drinks waiting.”

Bond straighten his jacket with an affirmative nod to his greeter and headed down the familiar hallway. M stood at the far end of the room looking out the window into the darkness, drink in hand. “You’re on time Bond. Unexpected.”

“Just following orders Mum,” making himself at home he poured himself a drink without being offered.

“Oh don’t be so smug Bond. “ M turned holding her glass out to him to refill. “Did you review the file?”

“Of course M. Obviously there is something not in that file you would like to enlighten me about.” Bond sipped his drink and watched her closely. Something ate at her, just underneath the surface of her iron maiden exterior. Not many would be able to see it. M’s tells we’re few and far between.

"Ghosts of the past, Bond. They come back to haunt us in the most unexpected of ways."  
She led the way to the two sofas situated either side of the unlit fireplace, and waved Bond to the one opposite. Smoothing her skirt she sat and cradled her glass in her lap. Bond swept a coaster from the pile in the centre of the coffee table and put his glass down, giving her a few moments to collect herself. Then he sat, alert and waiting.

"We all have them," he said eventually. "Ghosts, I mean."

She glared at him, thinking he was being flippant, but his expression was that of polite curiosity. As usual she found the agent irksome even when he did absolutely nothing irritating, but she had need of him.

“Many years ago, before I joined the service, I had a daughter. She was three years old when I accepted my first position here and was cared for - raised, is perhaps a more accurate word - by her grandmother. About six months into my first post I met my husband and the child came to live with us for the first few years of our marriage."

She glanced at Bond sharply. "Yes, the child was illegitimate. Frowned upon even in the mid-60s. She and I never had the most conventional of relationships. She went to boarding school at the age of ten."

Bond kept silent. He had spent time alone in this house several times, passing the time until M returned from Six by snooping as any good spy would. There had been letters - M's neat, tight elegant hand and a young childish scrawl that matured with the dates on the letters. The child always addressed M by name, never Mother or Mum. A niece, he had assumed, but a daughter...?

His own memories of childhood were not altogether happy ones, but he had been close to both of his parents before their deaths. M had become an awkward distant maternal substitute at times, and here she presented the evidence that that role was not completely alien to her. Yes, that would make sense.  
"What has she to do with the mission?"

M stood abruptly, and headed toward the kitchen, throwing out, "I saw her eyes, Bond. In that lineup of the abducted technicians. Let's eat, and I will explain further."

M headed towards her kitchen and Bond followed. Dinner was already prepared and waiting. Instead of making their way to the dining room, there were two place settings at the kitchen island, a stack of folders, and an old photo album.

Bond uncorked the chilling bottle of wine that had been left for them, pouring them each a glass. M waved a hand at Bond to serve dinner also as she began to talk. “My daughter and I never had what one would call a conventional relationship, let alone like each other. Oh we attempted, but over the years it grew more fractured as the years passed.”

Bond sat in silence, eating his meal, as M continued seemingly distracted from her meal. “Fourteen years ago my daughter was killed in a car accident. They tried to say it was accidental. Mud across a roadway causing dangerous condition. In reality, she was ran off the road.”

M silently opened the old photo album lying next to her and began thumbing through the pages. Bond got glimpses of a much younger M and her husband. A young woman who resembled a taller dark haired version M. Some of these photos he had seen before scattered through M’s home, framed on the wall, mantle and side tables.

Suddenly the photo album can sliding his way across the marble countertop open to a page containing photos of a young boy. Dark curls. Gangling and thin.

“Top row. Fourth from the right.” M tapped another photo lying in front of her with a finger. The photo from the mission file came floating his way. “That is my grandson.”

Bond had seen a handful of pictures before of the dark haired serious looking child. They had all been formal portraits, but here, in the album, the young boy appeared to take on a personality and Life. Looking at two pictures side by side, one a family outing, the other an official team photograph, Bond could still see the child in the man.

“This isn’t common knowledge. It’s not even ‘highly classified’ is it?”

M shook her head, nibbling at a forkful of chicken though her appetite had long since deserted. “It was thought better for all concerned to disguise as much of his existence as possible. They are an exploitable weakness. One which I cannot afford. Besides, I barely know the boy.”

“But you recognised him. So what is it you want from me? There is something, and it won’t be officially sanctioned.”

M smiled coldly. “Find him and bring him home. Anything he has done against this country disappears before he sets foot on home soil. Are you in agreement, Bond? If incentive were needed, I can make even the most awkward problem disappear.”

Bond spent the next three hours talking with M about her grandson memorizing every detail he could about the boy. What was the team’s mission and outcome. Did she think they boy could have been turned. And what he did learn also was that she had a vast amount of hidden affection for a boy she hardly knew.

“Bond. Bring the boy home.” M stood just inside in the front doorway. “He’s all I have left.”

“I’ll do my best Mum,” Bond nodded to her trying to give her a reassuring smile. He turned up the collar of overcoat against the chill of the night, heading off into the darkness, photo album tucked under his arm.

Tomorrow morn he would receive his orders from M and Tanner along with the other agents assigned to this retrieval mission. However, his orders directly from M superseded those. Tonight though, would be spent researching and learning more about his mark.

Bond sat in his flat, glass in hand, with the photo album balanced on one knee. How did M, who managed to “collect” orphans to raise manage to lose track of her only grandson? A boy who from all he could tell had spent a lot of his teen and adult life wandering around in the fringes of her world.

Bond tried to see M in the boy, but the dark features the height... He clearly took after his father's line, whoever he was. Nothing in the file hinted at a connection to her. In fact there was little detail on the government contract at all, but their personal lives were laid out neatly, a page per person.

There was little remarkable about any of the team, at least on paper. Well... except for almost genius level IQs and their penchant for breaking and entering military, government or financial establishments, without ever moving their arses from the sofa.

Between them they had dodged several charges for minor offences, mostly in their youth. At least two had been 'guests' of MI5 who, impressed by their abilities and realising the need to keep a close eye on them, were recruited for this contract as a result.

M's boy seemed to have a suspiciously pristine record, however. Highly skilled, but no intel on any of his prior activities before joining the team. Bond shuffled the papers. "But you have someone interesting running interference, don't you?" He murmured, staring directly at the smiling eyes in the photograph. He tapped the face of the young man to the right. "Now, your friend here is not afraid to cross a line, and it's very interesting to me that he recruited you."


	4. Chapter 4

None of them had an inkling that they were being watched, in trouble, and facing disaster until their evening meal was interrupted by a group of black clad, weapon yielding mercenaries. Their main objective was to herd them into back end of one lorry and their equipment into another. And at least for now, it seemed their orders were to keep them alive, a little roughed up, but alive.

Only one of them spoke in accented English, which he didn’t recognise its origin. The others communicated in nonverbal hand signals. Nothing for him to be able to grasp onto for information. They rode for 4 1/2 or more hours huddled in that back of the lorry with no clue as to which direction they were traveling. They talked and speculated quietly amongst themselves attempting to sort through what had occurred, but none of them could settle on an idea of who or what was happening to them at all, other than they were hostage.

When they finally arrived at their destination, the lorry halted but they were left inside for an eternity before the doors were opened revealing the inside of what seemed to be some form of a manufacturing building. Herded out of the lorry at gun point, they were “greeted” by a suited man with an assortment of files containing each of theirs CV. He spoke to each of them by name and ordered to retrieve their personal tech which was piled on long tables outside the lorry.  
He reluctantly held back until one of their abductors stepped up behind him and he was ordered once more to retrieve what belonged to him.

The armed man shoved the barrel of his rifle into Q’s kidney, cursing in some other language. Q stumbled but kept his feet.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Tariq, Q’s roommate at the facility, hissed. “Just pick it up. You can check it over later.”

“Listen to your friend.” The suited man was suddenly in front of him with an oily smile. “We know who you are, and what you are worth. Your equipment is part of your value so you can be assured it has not been tampered with.”

Q glanced at Tariq and then slowly made his way to the tables. His laptop was there, sat neatly on top of it’s bag. Other than having been removed it didn’t appear to have been disturbed. His mobile was there too, but switched off. Q replaced both in his bag and retreated to stand with his team.

“Ok. You, you, and you,”. The suited man indicated three of their team that Q was less familiar with. The two women appeared terrified and one was weeping. “Transaction, C549211. Funds cleared. Move them out tonight,” he ordered one of his men. “The rest... let’s get them settled in.”

Two of the armed guards began to herd the rest of the team down a corridor off the main open warehouse area. One of the men in the team attempted to take a step towards the women that were being directed elsewhere but was forcibly made aware that he was to remain with the main group of the team. Q slowly followed Tariq down the corridor away from the women who could be heard crying and protesting being separated from the others. The farther they walked down the corridor the more he began to realise that the building was much more than a warehouse.

At the far end of the hallway, they began to see rows of doors, small individual cell doors. Their kidnappers were obviously well prepared and down such a thing like this before. Each small room had a solid outer door with a small window with a hinged cover three quarters of the way up. Also, there was another similar opening near the bottom of the door. Outside of each door was a large plastic tub with a lid. One by one, they were separated from the main team group, shoved towards one of the cell doors, and instructed to deposit their tech in the tub outside the door.

One of their team members protested and argued with their kidnappers demanding to know what was going on, just to find that all he got for his outburst was a rough shove into his cell that sent him sprawling to the floor. Q and another team member were shoved on farther down the corridor to another group of cells, with Q being the last at the far end of the doors.  
  
Before his door could close Q stepped in front of it and addressed the suited man who had followed the group’s progress. “Whatever it is you want, you’ll not get it by locking us up, or by intimidation. Pay us more than our contract was worth and we’ll consider working for you.”

The man looked at Q then consulted a list on his clipboard. With a cold smile he stepped closer to Q. “I can already smell trouble from this end of the corridor. Mind your arrogance doesn’t cause you to misstep. You are already in high demand, boy, and I can’t risk damaging my prize product by knocking it into shape. Don’t test me.” He nodded to the guard who gave Q a shove away from the door.

The last few doors clanged shut, heavy metal bolts sliding home automatically. “Sleep! Couple more of you ship out tomorrow. The rest... You get to be guests a while longer.”

Heavy boots retreated down the corridor leaving each of them alone in their spartan cell. Q’s inventory took less than 10 seconds. Metal bed screwed to the floor. Thin mattress, woollen blanket, no pillow. Lidless toilet, no loo roll, no washbasin. No other furniture of any description. High ceilings with glaring strip lights that made the room bright as a sunny day without any of the warmth.

Three days passed or maybe it was four with just food and water appearing occasionally through one of the sealed off openings in the metal clad door. No appearance of his captors. No sound from the outside.

He had spent a lot of time replaying the conversations of their captors over and over trying to determine just who they were and their intentions for the group. It had been obvious right from the start that some of their group had been sold off to people/groups unknown but their plans for the remainder of their group has not been mentioned.

The hours and days had begun to run together for him in the unchanging surroundings. Sleep had occupied him at times, although it was restless, filled with dreams, and never lasted long. He had paced the small room at other times resorting to counting the number of bricks in the walls that made us his palatial accommodations. And without his laptop or phone, nothing to occupy him, his mind has ran to undesirable places with nothing to focus it, especially pausing frequently on “why me?”

He wished for someone to open the door. Then he decided that maybe he didn’t want someone to open the door. A break from the endless bright industrial lighting would be nice. A shower also. Clean clothing. He was sure he smelled. This was fucking madness.  
“Hello?! Anyone?” He had been yelling for over an hour, just to break the interminable silence, even though he was certain the cells must be soundproofed. Unless he was the only one left...

The sound of the door locks disengaging was a relief, but then the fear of what might lay beyond made his mouth go dry.

“Stand back from the door,” a rough voice demanded as it swung open to reveal the wide corridor beyond. A new guard he didn’t recognise stood about six feet from the entrance, a handgun held casually at his side. “Collect your tech. Work time.”

Q didn’t need to be asked twice. With his laptop he had a chance to communicate with the outside world. Whatever they asked of him, he could take long enough at it to get a message out to someone.

With his mobile tucked into his back pocket - perhaps they would forget to take it back - and laptop under his arm he followed the new guard to a darkened room.

A voice came from the shadows making Q jump. “Sit. Set up your equipment. Your task will appear on the screen in front of you. You have two hours to complete it.”

Q tried to see the man who had spoken but he was only a denser patch of darkness. The voice was heavily accented but seemed familiar. One of the men who had captured them maybe.

“I need a charger. The battery is dead.”

“You will find everything you need taped to the table. The clock is ticking, Q...”

“Tariq?!” Recognition was like a punch to the gut. “What the hell-?”

“Tick tock, Q. No questions now, be a good boy. You Future depends on your performance today.”

Q made no move to sit at the table. The guard immediately stepped forward, gun pointed directly at him. “I wouldn’t suggest doing that,” came Tariq’s voice again. “One warning. That is all. After that they have permission to shoot you in a non lethal place, the first time of course. Still just as painful. Slightly damaged merchandise still draw a hefty price.”

He hesitantly sat at the wired table setting his laptop bag down. He slowly unpacked setting up his tech and booted up. The guard tossed an external hard drive onto the table. “Your two hours starts in 5. I suggest you make the most of your time.”

There was no physical connection to any network. No sign of a wireless connection either as he searched and hoped. “How do I know this Drive is safe?” He questioned. “You guaranteed my tech hadn’t been tampered with.”

“You do realise I do have an inkling just how important the data on your laptop is extremely valuable. It’s part of why you are so valuable also besides your talent.” Tariq chuckled. “Do you think I am so stupid? Although I did say a two hour time limit. Your instructions are on the drive.”

Q reluctantly plugged in the drive, watching it connect. He quickly scanned the instructions as a countdown clock appeared on screen and activity appeared on the drive running an attack on his system. He focus narrowed quickly in defense mode as fingers flew over the keyboard. Defense mode quickly turned to offense mode and within 30 minutes he had defeated it and completed the challenge.

“Excellent.” Movement behind Q and a familiar figure stepped up to Q’s side. “29 minutes and 48 seconds. Even better than I predicted. I was right to single you out as the one.”

“One what?” Q growled. “and what the hell have you gotten us into? What are they paying you? I can...”

“Paying me?! Oh dear, you are so naive.” Tariq stepped in front of the desk and made a gesture. Suddenly the room was flooded with light that stung Q’s eyes.

“This...” he turned slowly, grinning, “is all me. And you - plus the rest of the team your government so kindly brought together for me - are mine now too.”

“No. You’ll get nothing from me. They’ll already be looking for us.” Q hoped it was so. It was a sensitive project. They wouldn’t let the team vanish without a trace.

“Oh, I think I will. For the record, they are already looking, which makes me keen to push up my price more quickly. To do that I need evidence that you can deliver what I say you can.”

“I refuse.”

“Then I am afraid I will have to encourage you to see reason. I will have another test for you in a few days. In the meantime...” the guard appeared at the door again, “make sure he’s kept uncomfortable.”


	5. Chapter 5

Bond had picked up his gear from TSS. Having some time before he needed to be at the airport to catch his flight, he schedule a few moments at the firing range to focus himself reading for his mission. He was heading there when he was flagged down by one of Tanner’s assistants requesting his presence in M’s office.

“I know you have a flight to catch 007,” Tanner began as he entered M’s office. “But there has been another auction posted for another one of the missing team.” Tanner handed him a file that Bond immediately studied.

“Just one?” Bond questions sparing a glance in M’s direction. “That makes four now that have been out for bid.”

“We are still working on the location of where these auctions are being posted from. TSS is hoping to be able to glean the Intel we need from this latest posting. “ Tanner added.

“We may need to resort to posing as a bidder to gain some form of contact with the kidnappers. If so, that job will fall to you, 007.” M joined the conversation. “You understand the importance of their return.”

“Yes, Mum”. Bond responded meeting her gaze before handing the file back to Tanner.

“We’ll contact you as soon as your flight has landed with a further update. Hopefully with more intel than we have now.” Bond nodding to both Tanner and M before heading out to catch his flight.

By the time Bond touched down at his destination Tanner had left several messages for him to check in at his earliest opportunity. There was also a car waiting to take him to a hotel.

Waiting until he was ensconced in the rear of the limo, privacy screen activated, Bond switched to a secure connection to speak to Tanner.

“I’m having intel sent to you now. Details of the latest auction and the bids just made a jump. New information available to serious bidders but it will only be released after a transfer of funds.”

“So they are asking buyers to pay blind?”

“Promising evidence of his competence. We managed to get a sneak peek, which will be with you soon. Whatever the full recording shows, his price has almost doubled in 24 hours.”

“Somebody really wants him.”

“Or wants to stop others from having him. You have a suite booked. It’s been cleaned. The driver is vetted and at your disposal. Details of your cover are already on their way and will be delivered to your hotel by a local operative.”

“Thanks. Anything else?”

“Try not to get the operative killed. She’s on her first overseas posting.”

Bond had just settled into his suite when a knock cake at his door. Glancing through the peephole in the door, a younger unseasoned version of Moneypenny, except for a shocking mane of red hair, gave the appropriate hand gesture noting her as an operative. Bond opened the door to her and waited for the next notable sign of identification before allowing her further into his rooms.

“Galloway,” she briefly introduced herself with a nod. “Further instructions, Agent.” the redhead handed him a file she had pulled from the rucksack in hand.

Bond took the file, moved towards a table in the room stocked with tumblers and expensive amber alcohol, pouring himself one before glancing through it. “We’ve arranged your cover if needed to pose as a buyer.”

“Have we managed to pinpoint a location yet? What is the latest bid at?” Bond threw question at her as he thumbed through the pages in the file.

“Bid has jumped substantially in the last 4 hours. It closes in another 6.” Galloway pulled out another file with his cover information. “Tanner said to inform you at M’s directive that the group is now advertising these early auctions are property with specific talents. A more lucrative property will follow later. Previews to come.”

"Do you understand all this? Some of these terms are unfamiliar to me. If I'm to pose as a buyer I am going to need to sound like I know what I'm talking about." Bond glanced at her, dropping the file open onto the table. Galloway placed the other next to it and smiled confidently.

"It's my field, or was at University." She pulled out one of the luxurious upholstered chairs and folded into it, crossing her legs. Bond noted the way her designer jeans clung to her shapely legs, and the drape of her silk knit tshirt moulded over her breasts. The look was backpacker-chic, expensive but casual, typical of the European tourists in the hotel. It wouldn't raise eyebrows or comment for her to be wandering around the suites.

Realizing he had been lingering over his appreciation of her, he busied himself with pouring her a drink, taking a deep breath and reminding himself to focus. For once, the idea of idling away the evening in bed with a willing body held less interest than learning what he could from her to further his mission. M's urgency - her fear for the boy - had made more impact than he cared to admit.

Galloway proved to be a good educator, imparting her knowledge enthusiastically and ensuring Bond's questions were answered. Before she left, the previews arrived in Bond's mailbox and she went through them in detail just in case he needed to make some enquiries.

"My contact details" she said, holding out a card as she was preparing to leave. Bond blocked the door from closing with his body and pocketed it. "If you need anything else call and leave a message on the service. I'll get back to you."


	6. Chapter 6

“Make sure he’s uncomfortable,” Tariq’s voice repeated in his head fearing what was to come next.  His tech was deposited in the bin outside his cell again.  “Phone!” The guard demanded when Q didn’t return it to the bin with his laptop.    
  
“I don’t...”   
  
“Now!” Demanded the guard pointing his weapon at one of Q’s knees.   Q sighed pulling it out of his pocket and tossing it in the bin also before he was roughly shoved through the door of the small room that was his “new home.”   
  
The door slammed behind him.  Lights still glaring.  And then it began. Music. At an annoying just above comfort level loudness.  Fucking Wham... wanting him to Wake Me Up Before...  and it continued for hours.  Endlessly.

Constant bright lights.   Constantly George Michael. Two days later he was pleading at the door.

"You are ready to get to work, my friend?  We have another test for you."

Q sagged in the chair he had been led to and fixed his eyes on the desktop in front of him.  His head was still ringing with the cursed music and his eyes felt like they were full of grit.  He didn't know when last he'd slept, the noise and the heat that both made his cell hell on earth, keeping him from all but the lightest doze.  The smell of his own sweat was bitter.

And Tariq was still talking.  He tried to focus on what the man was saying but whenever he thought of the man impotent rage turned his empty stomach sour.  A hand slammed onto the desk making him jump.

"Plug in your equipment and get started.  Same exercise as before."

"Can't..."  Q croaked.  "Eyes too sore."

Something hard and cold poked him in the back of his shoulder.  Tariq bent down in front of him with an insincere smile.  "You are nothing but a product to me anymore.  And out of this stable of talent, you are the greatest prize.  I do not want to damage you in anyway as that will reduce your value, but I will have you demonstrate your skills."

"Can't see."

"You need your eyes cleansing?  Sure."  Tariq snatched a bottle of water from one of the guards and threw the contents in Q's face.  It was lukewarm, but it was still a shock and Q jumped backwards to prevent his tech being damaged.

"Ah, there is life in you."  Tariq motioned to one of the guards.  "Bring the young blonde girl.  I have a task for her too."

Q wiped off his face as best he could, wiping his hands on his trousers.  Slowly he plugged in his laptop and waited for it to run through its startup sequence.  By the time he was squinting at his second layer of security, pecking at the keyboard one fingered, the guard returned with the youngest member of their team.

"This little lady is going to be the one to encourage you to cooperate.  Let me demonstrate, for your earlier reticence..."  Tariq swung his fist and connected with the girl's jaw, sending her to the floor.  He turned to Q who was gaping in shock, half out of his chair to go help her when he froze with a gun pressed into his back again.  "Now...  work quickly."

Q began to work obviously  not at his usual standards. His focus kept being drawn to the girl on the floor. 

“You need more incentive to complete your task.” Tariq stated calmly lashing out with vicious kick to the torso of the young girl who screamed as the sound of crunching bones was obvious. “Listen to her scream. Scream because of you.”

“I’ll work. I’ll work. Just leave her alone.” Q pleaded swallowing hard turning back to his keyboard.   
  
“For your reluctance you lose an hour off your time.  I doubt if you’ll need it anyway.”  Tariq reaches down an ran a hand through the girl’s hair, as she lay sobbing in the floor curled in on herself.  “Falter again, she pays the price.”  
  
Q worked frantically, eyes never diverting from the screen, anger and fear churning in him.  When done, he stood quickly, shoving his chair back, he took a step towards the girl.  A guard stepped between them preventing him from reaching her.    
  
“19:10 minutes.  Much much better than I anticipated.   Motivation works well with you. “ Tariq chuckled, “and that time will be an excellent marketing point.”  
  
Another guard entered the room, Tariq motioned to the girl still on the floor.  “Dispose of her.  She’s too weak in many ways to bring us a worthwhile price from our bidders.   
  
“Nooo!” Q pushed towards the girl only to be shoved backwards to the floor himself by the guard physically between.   
  
“Back to his cell.” Tariq ordered the guard who physically pulled Q up from the floor, hauling him back to his cell, as he screamed at Tariq to not harm the girl anymore.    

It was his cell but in the short time he had been away it had been transformed from a hot house to a fridge, air conditioning humming noisily from the high ceiling.  It was also pitch dark.  Q lay on the floor where he'd fallen when the guard had roughly shoved him through the door, and prayed that his tech had received more careful treatment.

He curled into a ball, staring numbly into the black.  The darkness was absolute.  The darkness in his head was worse.  He didn't know who else had been taken from the compound but he couldn't risk any more of his former colleagues.  But he couldn't carry on doing what Tariq wanted.  He needed more time on his laptop...

Q crawled towards the bench that served as a bed and found the shirt and jumper he had discarded.  He pulled the scratchy woolen blanket around his shoulders and lay down.  Maybe he could finally get some sleep.

And then George Michael started up again...

 


	7. Chapter 7

“Bond, M is instructing you to make contact through their postings of talent for sale.” Tanner commented to him over the phone.

“Approach with under the guise that you are seeking talent but what they are offering is not quite what you are looking for.”

Bond listened to Tanner’s instructions as he flipped through the more detailed file M had given him. The one that contained intel on the team member she was intently focused on.

“We will forward to you momentarily the skill set you are seeking in your purchase.” Tanner added. M’s voice could be heard in the background and Bond realised Tanner was in M’s office and not TSS. “M’s says to proceed cautiously with this situation. The talent in this group could be a hazardous threat to nation in the wrong hands.”

“Understood.”

Bond sat at the table in his suite in front of his laptop, a large pot of coffee by his side and the remains of his breakfast pushed aside. He flipped through the file, picking out the most pertinent details to craft his posting to the sellers. Finally satisfied, making it clear the advertised skill set wasn't quite what he needed, he hit send and poured the last of the coffee.

He carried the cup to the bathroom and switched on the shower, sipping the too cool beverage while he shaved and waited for the bathroom to steam up. He had just stepped from the hot stream and wrapped a towel around his hips when he heard his laptop signal a response to his post.

As he dressed he placed a secure call to Tanner. "I have a response. A request to meet to discuss. Contact's name is Tariq, no surname given. Wasn't there a Tariq on the team?"

"Yes" Bond could hear Tanner shuffling papers. "The group photograph. Back row. There is a legend on the back to help you identify him."

"Yes, got it. That can't be him. Common enough name, I suppose." Bond read through the message again. "He has suggested a business dinner at a hotel restaurant on the north side. Arrange a booking in my name for 9pm. Let's put a face to this name."

Bond spent the new few hours until his set meeting time going over the Intel he had been provided and settling into his cover. At one point in time he had to call Galloway and have her clarify some of the information she had given him. In the back of his mind he considered having her accompany him in some role as an assistant or whatever but the more involved the more likelihood of something becoming cocked up with the mission.

Bond took his time dressing for the meet in the most expensive bespoke suit he had brought alone with him. If one was going to be expected to spend money to purchase quality merchandise, one most look the part.

One last call to check in before leaving for the meet. “Any further to pass on Tanner?”

“No 007. We’ve researched further into the background of all the team members and this Tariq especially. So far we’ve found nothing out of the norm with any of them.”

Bond’s thought it the back of his mind was that somehow his mark via M’s personal direction had somehow manage to cover his true background also. A true feat to hide something from the researcher in TSS.

“I am to relay to you from M the priority of the outcome of this mission.” Tanner’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Understood and noted.”

Bond arrived at the restaurant right on time but headed to the bar first. Didn’t want to appear too eager, but didn’t intend to keep his guests waiting long. He ordered a Scotch on the rocks and positioned himself so he could see the sweeping twelfth floor restaurant in the mirrored wall but could chat with the bartender.

Tanner had reserved a table he knew would satisfy a double O’s preference for no surprise approaches. Bond watched as Tariq and another man were seated, noting a third man who entered the bar and ordered an iced water in a cocktail glass. Bond smirked inwardly. The man was carrying, but the drink was a clumsy way to appear inconspicuous.

“Entschuldigung, wie spät ist es?” Bond sidled up to the man tapping his bare wrist, and while he checked his watch the agent skilfully liberated his wallet from his jacket pocket.

The man shrugged, and showed his watch to Bond, understanding what Bond asked even if he couldn’t reply.

“Danke.” Bond swallowed the last of his Scotch and strolled towards the Gents, where he flipped through the wallet. Nothing useful to him apart from a blank security card, similar to a hotel key. Might be nothing but he pocketed it and headed back towards the restaurant, dropping the wallet discreetly near to the bar.

“Richard Sterling,” he announced. “I am expecting guests to join me.”

“Your guests have already arrived, Sir. Please follow me.”

As they approached Bond witnessed a quiet but angry exchange of hissed words between the two men. Neither rose to greet him, both looking arrogantly up at him. Bond allowed his displeasure to show briefly before sliding a thin veneer of cordiality into place.

“Gentlemen. Sorry to keep you waiting. Business matters to attend to, I’m sure you understand.” He offered his hand to the better dressed of the two, first. “Richard Sterling.”

 

 

 


End file.
